Enter Albinus.
Albinus, whence proceeds this dismal noise?
Alb. Too soon you'll know what I want words to tell.
Max. How fares my son? Is my Charinus well? Not answer me! Oh my prophetic fear!
Alb. How can I speak, or how, sir, can you hear? Imagine that which you would most deplore, And that, which I would speak, is it, or more.
Max. Thy mournful message in thy looks I read: Is he (oh that I live to ask it!) dead?
Alb. Sir—
Max. Stay; if thou speak'st that word, thou speak'st thy last: Some God now, if he dares, relate what's past: Say but he's dead, that God shall mortal be.
Alb. Then, what I dare not speak, look back and see.
[Charinus borne in dead by soldiers.
Max. See nothing, eyes, henceforth, but death and woe; You've done me the worst office you can do. You've shewn me destiny's preposterous crime; An unripe fate, disclosed ere nature's time.